


out of my head

by OnyxSphinx



Series: newmann one-shots [126]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, M/M, it's p heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21889483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: somehow, Hermann takes Newt's ten lost years the hardest
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Series: newmann one-shots [126]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1286762
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	out of my head

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "I'm a little worried you won't get this because apparently you didn't get that one last night but here's hoping tumblr isn't being tumblr again! Would you be down to write: somehow Hermann ends up being the one to take Newt's ten lost years the hardest."

Somehow, Hermann ends up being the one to take Newt’s lost ten years the hardest.

Perhaps it’s relative; Newt would hardly know; but he thinks, once you get past the panic attacks and PTSD, he’s doing really well, given everything; all things considered, he’d say he’s doing stellar, even—he’s going to his therapy sessions, he’s making the effort to reintegrate into society, so on and so forth.

Last week he even made it to the aquarium—alone! Which, really, he shouldn’t be _so_ proud of, but, honestly? It feels monumental. Ten years of losing more and more control until he was trapped and powerless—well, it makes him appreciate the little things more.

It shows in the little ways; the purse of Hermann’s lips and the way his eyes shutter the instant they get anywhere near a topic he thinks will upset Newt; the way that before Newt leaves to go to the grocery store he tells him to look both ways before crossing the street “just in case”.

Maybe it’s this; the fact that he didn’t _know,_ not until _after._ Newt knew late, sure, but he’s been _dealing_ with it, even without knowing it, for the past decade. He’s had time to process; Hermann’s still new to this.

Or—maybe; it’s that Hermann’s afraid. Not of him—he knows that, now; no. Of himself. He’s used to being right, and he was so, so wrong, and maybe, maybe he doesn’t know how to deal with that; especially not when it’s _him;_ not when it’s Newt.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Newt starts; blinks. Turns to look at Hermann. Watches the soft rise and fall of his chest; the way his face is half cast into shadow with the light of the bedside lamp. The curve of his shoulder; the stupid long pyjamas he wears with lace on the collar and cuffs. The crease between his brows from long hours of stress. The premature greying at his temples.

He shrugs; noncommittally. “Not much. Just you, but that’s usual.” It’s true; Hermann’s always been on his mind, even before.

Hermann laughs; soft; quiet, in the way he never is except when they’re alone together, but hesitant; still. “Hilarious.”

“No, really,” Newt says; smiles. He’s been doing that more, now; smiling. It’s something about Hermann, he thinks, that does it; brings it out in him.

“Do you think about me a lot, Doctor Geiszler?” Hermann teases, and the sparkle in his eyes is back; duller than he remembers it, but there nevertheless. “Do I prey on your—” he stops; freezes, nearly, eyes flickering hummingbird-quick. “Ah, nevermind, I—”

Newt reaches out; makes to put a comforting hand on Hermann’s shoulder; stops when the other moves away. “Hey, no, don’t worry, it’s okay.”

“No, I—I apologise,” Hermann says; grimaces, gaze no longer meeting his, and he’s gone— _cold,_ almost. “I shouldn't—nevermind.”

“Hermann—”

“ _Nevermind,_ ” Hermann snaps.

Newt falls silent; the only sound the buzz between his ears and Hermann’s laboured breathing, and he wants to—to reach out, but that does _not_ seem like a good idea right now, at _all._ And that—it hurts. It hurts a lot, to see Hermann like this and know that he can’t do anything to make it better right now.

All he can do is wait.

So he does.

Hermann’s breaths slow; finally, to a steady pace, and when he turns over, his face is red; like he’s been scrubbing at it; like he’s been crying, quietly. “Hey, hey,” Newt says; softly, and when Hermann doesn’t say anything, sighs. “It’s okay, Hermann. I’m not…I’m not fragile, or anything, you don’t have to treat me like I’m going to break.”

“I.” Hermann stops. “I…sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It was a _joke,_ ” Newt says, “Herms, it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it like that, okay? And it was just—just a joke. I know that. I’m not…” _where I was before,_ he doesn’t add, _about to fall into a nervous wreck if someone so much as said my name._

Hermann swallows. “Alright,” he says, “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t apologise,” Newt comforts; reaches out tentatively, and this time, Hermann doesn’t flinch away from his touch; lets his hand settle on his arm, and sighs; soft, the barest exhale. “I know you don’t want me to be upset.”

“No,” Hermann says; and his lips purse. “No, I—that’s the very _last_ thing I want. And it…” he hesitates.

Newt gives an encouraging squeeze.

“I can’t bear the thought of you hurting,” Hermann says; thickly, and he blinks quickly. “I—for so long, you were…you were hurting, and I didn’t _know,_ and now…”

“You’re afraid it’s going to happen again,” Newt finishes, and oh; oh, he understands it, and it _hurts._

“Yes. Yes.”

“Okay. Well, I’m going to let you in on a secret: if you hurt me, I’ll tell you.”

“I—”

“I _promise,_ ” Newt says. “And I know that’s hard for you to believe, but Hermann, you have to trust me, okay? I promise I’ll tell you. We’ll work on it together.”

Hermann’s eyes shut; and for a moment, it seems like he’s not going to say anything. When he does speak, there’s a rawness that wasn’t there before. “Alright. I…I trust you, Newton.”

Newt breathes. Smiles. “Thank you,” he says.

“Can you…” Hermann hesitates. “Can you…say it again?”

“What—oh. Oh.” Newt stops. “Hermann, I trust you. I promise, dude. C'mere.”

Hermann shifts towards him; tense, still, but complying, and when Newt puts his arm over him and squeezes, he lets out a startled breath; tenses further, and then, slowly, relaxes; curls into him, head nestled beneath Newt’s chin; breath tickling his neck, the scent of his cucumber shampoo in Newt’s nose.

“It’s okay, Hermann,” Newt murmurs, “I trust you.”

Hermann doesn’t reply, but the tension bleeds, further, out of him; shoulders sloping instead of sharp-cut tension, and his breath is even; steady, and Newt says, again, “I trust you,” and it’s true; and they both know it.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
